


A Little Fall of (R)ain

by coldairballoons



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: A Little Fall of Rain, M/M, enjoltaire - Freeform, exr - Freeform, he dies, im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 12:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17467670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldairballoons/pseuds/coldairballoons
Summary: A Little Fall Of Rain, only with Grantaire as Èponine. It’s depressing. And I’m so sorry.





	A Little Fall of (R)ain

The barricade was a blur of gunshots, blood, dust and ashes, and Grantaire slipped through it nearly unnoticed. The cynic, though in his opinion, the revolution was barely reasonable, still wished to join in, though not for the cause--but for a man. The leader of the rebellion, Enjolras, was the Apollo to Grantaire’s Hyacinthus, though Grantaire highly doubted that he would feel the same. 

Never mind all that--Grantaire still needed to find Enjolras amidst the chaos of the barricade. For all he knew, the leader could be one of the bodies upon the ground, or missing, or injured. A sudden bustle of noise alerted the cynic to his location, and Grantaire looked up to the barricade. Sure enough, the leader of the rebellion stood upon it, in all his gay glory, holding a shotgun and a red flag. 

He didn’t notice the barrel of the gun aiming towards him, surely, or he would have moved out of the way. Grantaire did, however, and sprinted at him at full speed, as through it would somehow save his Apollo’s life. 

There was a blast of light, gunpowder, and suddenly, the cynic was numb. Surely it was the shock of the blast, not anything else? The last thing he noticed before he crumpled to the floor was the leader’s bright blue eyes trained on him, and his mouth moving to form Grantaire’s name. Grantaire couldn’t hear it through the dull ringing in his ears, but he gave a weak smile.

It was raining. It was a strange thing to notice, but the June sky was dark grey, and clouds hung heavy in the sky, warning of a storm to come. The rain was a light drizzle, though it was sure to get worse, but raindrops clung to Grantaire’s curls and eyelashes, and he blinked them away. 

Enjolras rushed to him, a hand beneath Grantaire’s head to keep it from lolling back into the barricade’s furniture. The concern was evident in his gaze, but Grantaire couldn’t tell why. That is, until his hand, resting upon his stomach, was pulled away by Enjolras, and--”Oh, God, Grantaire.”

Blood was dark and thick upon his hand, and it stuck to his shirt and vest. Enjolras quickly pulled off his own vest, balling it up and applying it to the wound, the pressure causing Grantaire to cry out in pain. He grasped blindly for something, anything, to hold onto, and was met with Enjolras’ hand.

“I’m sorry,” the cynic whimpered, but the leader shook his head. 

“Don’t. You don’t need to--Grantaire, you don’t need to apologize.” Was Enjolras, the levelheaded, reasonable leader panicking? No, no, surely not. “You’ll be alright, I swear.”

“Don’t lie to me, Apollo, I know what happens when one is shot in such a place as I.” Of course, there was the slim chance of survival, though Grantaire’s vision was blurring and dark at the edges. He knew what that entailed.

Enjolras shook his head, looking Grantaire square in the eyes, blue meeting dark hazel. Were his eyes growing misty, or was that just Grantaire’s dying delusions? “You will be alright, R. I do swear.”

Grantaire chuckled deliriously, and surely Enjolras thought he was finally losing his final shred of sanity. When the leader cocked his head in confusion, Grantaire explained. “That’s the first time you’ve… you’ve ever called me that.” A small notion, yet, it made Grantaire’s heart nearly burst with affection for the man.

Enjolras smiled, truly smiled, and Grantaire was enveloped in a bittersweet feeling. He had made his decision, and pushed Enjolras’ hand off his chest, along with the vest that the man was still attempting to clot the blood with. 

“R, Grantaire, you need to let me try, please.” Enjolras pleaded, attempting to move his arm back to its former position, but Grantaire shook his head. 

“Please. I don’t have long left, Apollo, just… give me this?” A solemn silence fell over the two, and Enjolras finally nodded, a motion which Grantaire repeated. “Good.”

Grantaire reached for Enjolras’ hand, then recoiled, realizing that the gesture might not be welcome. “Do you permit it?”

Enjolras nodded, reaching for the cynic’s hand and intertwining their fingers together. “What can I do?”

“Don’t you fret, Monsieur Enjolras. I… I don’t feel any pain.” That was a lie, but it slipped easily off his tongue, and seemed to soothe the leader a tad. The rain had picked up, and was now a steady torrent, drenching the people at the barricade. Grantaire smiled--the rain could disguise his tears. “A little fall of rain can… can hardly hurt me now.”

“You’re here.” Enjolras nodded, tucking a strand of Grantaire’s dark, curly hair out of his face, mouthing the words “I’m here.” back at him. He smiled. “That’s all I need to know.”

“Can… can you just hold me?” Grantaire whispered. Enjolras obliged, maneuvering the two so that Grantaire’s head was now on Enjolras’ lap. “This okay?” The leader questioned quietly. Grantaire nodded.

“You… will keep me safe? And you will keep me close?” Grantaire whispered. The darkness was coming, he could feel it, but Enjolras made it a bit more bearable, and the leader nodded. “Yes, of course.”

“And rain will… will make the flowers grow.”

“But you will live, Grantaire, dear God above…” Enjolras promised, running a hand through Grantaire’s curls. “If… if I could close your wounds with words of… love…”

“Just hold me, now, and let it be. Shelter me… comfort me…” Grantaire’s vision was growing blurrier by the minute, and he felt a faint buzzing in the back of his mind. Was that death?

“You would live a hundred years, R, if I could show you how.” Enjolras promised once more, to which Grantaire smiled. He weakly raised his free hand to trace his fingers upon Enjolras’ cheekbone, finally cupping his face in his hands. “I won’t desert you now.”

“The rain can’t hurt me now. This rain… will wash away what’s past.” Grantaire regretted it, he regretted every argument, every snide remark he ever made. “And you will keep me safe. And you will keep me close.” He repeated once more.

“I’ll sleep in your embrace at last.” Enjolras looked confused at first, then a dawn of understanding crossed his face. “Oh. Oh. Grantaire, R, if… if you had told me, I…” It was too late now. Too many words unsaid for the both of them. 

Grantaire shook his head. “The rain that brings you here is heaven blessed… the skies… the skies begin to clear, and I’m at rest…”

“A breath away… from where you are… I’ve… I’ve come home… from so far…” Grantaire whimpered, grip tightening around Enjolras’ hand. The hand that was on his cheek dropped to Grantaire’s side. His breaths were becoming labored, and Enjolras could tell he was close to the end.

“Hush-a-bye, dear Grantaire.” 

“Don’t you fret, Monsieur Enjolras.”

“You won’t feel any pain.”  
“I don’t feel any pain.” 

“A little fall of rain…”

“...can hardly hurt you now.”  
“...can hardly hurt me now.”

 

“I’m here.”

“That’s all I need to know…”

“I will stay with you,”

“And you will keep me safe.”

“Till you are sleeping.”

“And you will keep me close.”

 

“And rain,”

“And rain,”

“Will make the flowers,”

“Will make the flowers...”

 

Grantaire’s eyes had fluttered closed, but he opened them slowly, and peered up at Enjolras. 

"And then, do you know, Monsieur Enjolras, I believe I was a little in love with you." Grantaire whispered quietly, and, using the last of his strength, he leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to Enjolras’ cheek, then fell back.

He died with a smile upon his lips.

“The rain will make the flowers grow.” Enjolras whispered in reply, leaning down, and finally kissing Grantaire’s forehead.

“I’m so sorry, my dear Grantaire.”

**Author's Note:**

> I told you I’m sorry


End file.
